Even If We Try
by LaurenEP18
Summary: What would happen if Kurt never met Blaine in High School? If he had to face McKinley High alone, without Blaine's daily message of 'Courage? This is the story of how Kurt met Blaine in another time, in another place... because they're soul mates. And soul mates will always find their way to each other. Klaine, set in New York *Trigger warnings, rating may go up.
1. Drowning

Another crack of thunder sounded, the storm outside shaking the house with its ferocity. Water began spurting through the tiny window near the ceiling, slowly cracking at the strain of the constant rain. Soon, the pressure became too much and the window popped open, allowing the frigid rainwater to pour into the basement room.

He knew he needed to escape to higher ground, but his feet seemed to be cemented to the floor. As the water level rose, so did the panic in his chest. The thought of drowning made his skin crawl. To him, it was probably one of the worst ways a person could die.

The water level continued its trek upward until it the little ripples tickled his chin. No matter how hard he tried, his feet could not lift from the floor. He was trapped.

He called out, but there was no one there to hear him. He kept trying until the water touched his lips, pouring into his opened mouth. Within a minute, he was completely submerged.

_No! I want to die, but I don't want to die like this!_

Impulse taking over, he tried to take a breath and found that he could. It must have been a fluke. He knew he wouldn't be able to do that again. And then it would be over.

Suddenly, he wasn't standing in the water, but instead, he was lying in a bed. His face was pressed into his pillow and his lungs burned from lack of oxygen. When he finally regained full consciousness, he quickly flipped over, greedily sucking air into his lungs.

"Can you keep it down in there, Lady Hummel? I _really_ don't want to hear you getting it on with your hand tonight." And just like that, Kurt was brought back to reality by none other than Santana.

"Wasn't doing that,_ Satan._" Kurt shot back, sitting up and running a hand through his tousled hair. His heart was still pounding, seeming to work its way up into his throat.

Kurt glanced towards the window where a flashing neon light pulsed behind his curtains. That dream shook him too much for him to be able to fall back to sleep right away, so he decided to go into the main room.

Rachel and Santana were sleeping behind their privacy partitions, so Kurt tried to keep quiet. He went to the fridge and grabbed himself a mini bottle of water before falling back onto the couch. Kurt turned on the TV and quickly lowered the volume before scrolling through the guide until he found something half way interesting.

Unfortunately, the show wasn't engaging enough to keep his mind off the awful dream he'd just experienced and he was forced to face it head on.

To say that he was a happy individual would be like saying Rachel was unsure of herself or that Santana was soft-spoken. He'd had a hard life, but he never complained. What type of person would he be if he thought that his life was worse than those out in the world living with nothing? That's not to say that he didn't struggle, even _with_ the things he had.

Yes, he did lose his mom when he was a kid and he did get bullied so much in school, he was almost forced to repeat a grade… but he was in New York now. The city of dreams… _his_ dreams. His father was still with him and he had a great second family when his dad married Carole who brought along Finn. So why was he so depressed?

Maybe it was a chemical imbalance in his head or maybe he was just too weak to fight the darkness encroaching on his everyday life. He'd constantly go online and research depression. Symptoms, causes, remedies… There wasn't much that he could do short of going to a therapist it seemed, but he could never get the words out. The words that were always at the tip of his tongue, tainting it like poison that he needed to spit out. Then again, if he had poison in his mouth, he'd probably just swallow it to get the job done.

He'd always hated the thought of drowning or any sort of death involving oxygen deprivation. So in his dream, when he thought that he was going to drown, it scared him. He remembered thinking that he _did_ want to die… but not in that way. To think about suicide was one thing, but to have a dream about it was another thing entirely. Though he wasn't committing suicide in the dream, he still acknowledged the fact that he _did_ want to die. In his dreams and in real life.

Kurt knew that he'd never end up ending it. Wouldn't have the guts to flip the lights out permanently… but that didn't mean he never thought about it. He figured he could get into a car accident and the ambulance wouldn't be able to get to him in time, or maybe he'd get really sick and couldn't be saved. These things wouldn't happen to him on purpose, but it would still give him the end result he wanted.

As he slowly sipped his drink, the lump in his throat started to reduce. He just needed to go back to sleep. Once his water was gone, he turned off the television and wandered back to his 'room' and pulled the curtain back into place. His bed was torn up and it looked anything but comfortable, but being asleep and unconscious trumped being awake every time, so he settled into the rumpled bedding and hoped for a dreamless sleep.

It didn't seem like he was out that long before he was rudely awakened by Santana bitching about Rachel getting into the shower first. Kurt groaned, sliding the pillow out from under his head and using it as a shield towards the noise and light. He honestly felt hung over, but that was normally how he woke up every morning. It was like he could never get enough sleep.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. It's your turn to go buy the morning coffee." Santana barked, tossing a dense pillow at him with a bit too much force.

"I'm buying a coffee maker for Christmas." Kurt grumbled into his pillow.

"Oh, but Kurt! You can never get the right flavor with an at home coffee machine!" Rachel complained, apparently having finished her shower, "It's always too watery."

"Finally." Santana said, presumably speaking to Rachel, "Anyway. Why bother buying a coffee maker when we have a you to go get us coffee?" She laughed.

Kurt's stomach twisted at the comment, "Yes, because I'm only as good as the coffee I fetch for you two." He muttered.

"Of course!" Santana joked. It was _clearly_ a joke. He knew Santana wouldn't really think that of him…

Kurt sighed, tossing his comforter aside. His bare feet hit the cold wooden floor as he padded around his room. He threw on a pair of skinny jeans and a sweater, topping it with a thick pea coat. New York winters were brutal.

After combing through his hair until it passed as presentable, he grabbed his keys and wallet to head down to the little coffee shop on the corner.

The sidewalk was packed with people on their morning commute who all seemed to be walking in one direction, the one direction Kurt was moving _against._ Each shoulder nudge, every muttered jab sent him back to the halls of McKinley. So he pressed past the crowd and dipped into the first coffee shop he saw. The little bell above his cheerily announced his presence to the small lot inside before he pressed himself back against the door. His eyes were closed as he took in even breaths, trying to remind himself that he was in New York, miles away from Lima.

"Hey. _Move_ kid." A man with a thick New Yorker accent pushed him away from the door so he too could join the mass of people outside.

He tipped too far off balance and ended up falling into someone else. The two fell to the floor in a heap. Kurt was mortified, "Oh my god. I am _so, so_ sorry. I-I can't believe I just did that. I-" His rambling was cut off when he actually took a second to look at the stranger on the floor with him.

The first thing he noticed was a pair of friendly, honey-glazed hazel eyes. The young man next to him smiled broadly at his stuttering, looking at him like he was the most adorable thing he's ever seen. His hair was dark, curly but tamed, with just the right amount of gel to make the strands shine.

Kurt realized he'd been staring, so he quickly averted his eyes, "Yeah, uh. Sorry."

The other man stood up without a word before offering his hand to Kurt. Kurt glanced up at his face, seeing nothing but friendliness, "Need some help?" He asked with a light-hearted chuckle.

"T-thanks." Kurt blushed, taking the guys hand to be helped up, "Sorry again. The guy pushed me and I couldn't get my balance."

The shorter man just shrugged, "Don't worry about it. It's not every day I get knocked off my feet by a handsome stranger." He winked playfully. Kurt glanced down to the floor, his heart sputtering in his chest in a foreign way, "I'm Blaine, by the way. Blaine Anderson." Blaine held out his hand again, but in a greeting.

Kurt took his hand once more, shaking it, "Kurt Hummel."

"Well, Kurt Hummel. Did you want to join me for a coffee? It's on me." He smiled.

"A-actually, I have to go. I didn't mean to come in here and my roommates will bitch me out if I don't get them the right coffee." He let out a short laugh that came out a bit strangled with his nervousness.

Blaine's dark eyebrows dipped a bit. He seemed almost… disappointed? "Okay. Well," He rummaged around in his side bag before producing a pen. Then he took Kurt's hand and flipped it over and proceeded to write his number on the palm of his hand. Kurt was glad he was wearing his long sleeved sweater as he noticed his jacket sleeve riding up, "Why don't you call me when you're free and you don't have bitching roommates demanding coffee?" He grinned, releasing Kurt's hand.

Kurt glanced at the number written on his hand, smirking at the little smiley face underneath it, "S-_sure._" Why did he have to stutter when he was nervous?

"See you around then, Kurt." Blaine said before walking up to the barista behind the counter.

"See you around." Kurt responded too late. With one final glance at the handsome man, he quickly rushed out of the building and headed towards his normal coffee shop.

**===========================gLee==============================**

**So this was supposed to be a one shot, but the way I ended it seems to call for more. I'm working on a few other stories, but I got really frustrated with everything I was writing, so I stopped and gave myself a break with something new.**

**This fic is pretty personal. I'm kind of writing this as a sort of therapy for myself. The dream sequence in the beginning is a take on a dream that I actually had myself and so are a few other things added into this story. **

**I'm open to talking if anyone has ever felt the way Kurt is feeling in this fic. I know how hard it is to not be able to talk to others openly about this sort of thing. I love all of you, even if I haven't met you before! :)**

**Have you ever wanted to have a giant Klaine Fanfiction Convention where you can go and meet all of your favorite writers and socialize with readers? Someone should do that. I'd totally go.**


	2. Monster

Kurt was once again seated on his bed, laptop opened in front of him. The screen illuminated his small corner of the loft in a soft glow. His jaw tightened imperceptibly as the words on the screen hit him like a fresh slap to the face. As he read about depression, as he would every so often, he would always notice something. The webpage gave advice to the friends and family of the depressed individual, telling them the signs to look for and what to do if those symptoms were noticed.

He slammed his laptop shut, casting his room into darkness. He could see the symptoms in himself. Could _feel_ the monster inside him clawing his insides raw, working to turn Kurt into a shell that was nothing but a hollow cavern. Of course his brain would not be scooped out by this dark being inside of him. It wanted him to have knowledge of what was happening. To be a stander by as he felt himself being hollowed out, and could do nothing about it. It was an awful feeling, to not truly understand why something so cruel would be happening to him, but to know that it wasn't an outside force causing the pain.

To have no one notice, no one look past the flimsy lies and apathetic shrugs was just adding more weight to his shoulders. And with nothing inside to sturdy him, he felt like he would collapse under the strain.

Kurt laid down on his bed, his back aching slightly from being hunched over. He was just so _tired_.

Rachel and Santana were still at work. Kurt usually used this solitude to indulge in his worst habit. Something he'd picked up in High School.

He could still remember the first cut he'd made. It had been a particularly hard day at school and he had come home with aching reminders stained on his body in hues of blue and violet. Almost as if his body had engaged in some sort of autopilot, he found himself unscrewing the bolt holding the small razor in one of his pencil sharpeners. He had walked into the bathroom and grabbed a wad of tissues and the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. The house had been so silent, empty. His dad and stepmother had taken Finn out to dinner after one of his football games that Kurt did no attend. He'd feigned a headache and wasn't questioned any further.

Kurt had set himself up on his bed, dreary music playing on his open laptop. He's pretty sure the song playing was _Please Don't Go_ by Barcelona. That was how deeply ingrained this memory was.

As he laid there, he could feel the phantom sting of the first timid cut he had made all those years ago, see the tiny crimson dots breaking the surface of the milky skin of his wrist before he'd dabbed them away in disgust. He hated his weakness in that moment, hated the allure of tearing himself apart… hated himself showing just how pathetic he was in such an obvious place. Anyone could see the deep red lines… but no one had noticed.

The sound of the large loft door sliding open stripped him of his revere and landed him back into reality. Rachel was moaning about how her feet were killing her and Santana was bitching about the manager hiring another new employee, which in turn cut her hours.

Kurt rolled over to face away from the noise, wanting nothing more than to fall into a deep sleep that would hold him under until he was well again.

"_Ku-urt!_" Rachel sang out, swiping the curtains aside and entering his room, "You're not sleeping, are you?" She asked, seating herself on the edge of Kurt's bed, "Kurt?" She spoke again when Kurt didn't answer.

"Grandma's probably already asleep." Santana drawled.

Rachel huffed, "But it's only eight o'clock!" Kurt could almost see her pouting.

"Oh well," Santana said, sounding closer than before, "It's our apartment too, so if we want to have a party here, we don't need to ask his permission. 'Sides, he's sleeping already. He probably won't even know if we have a few people over. Grandma Hummel would probably just end up being a buzz kill anyway, like always."

"'_Tana!_" Rachel scolded, though her voice seemed to agree with her, "He'd wake up if he heard a lot of commotion." She reasoned.

"Hummel'd be able to sleep through a damn hurricane. Seriously, I've never met someone that slept so much in my life." Rachel's presence moved away from him as Santana's voice faded, "And I'm inviting the new guy. Maybe I can get him drunk and have him do something embarrassing that I can record and show the boss so his ass will get fired. Mama needs a new pair of shoes and that means I need to log more hours."

Kurt blocked the rest of their conversation out. He honestly didn't care if they had people over, so long as they left him alone. He let out a sigh that sounded far too much like a whimper, even in his ears, and tried to fall asleep.

A loud crash, followed by raucous laughter woke him up. Glancing at the clock, he found that he'd only been asleep for about three hours.

"_Next!_" Someone yelled, followed by a group of people chanting "_Chug, chug, chug!_"

"_Hey_, no sex in my bed!" Rachel's voice yelled.

He has to wonder why neither of the girls bothered to try to wake him up when they decided to have this seemingly large party. Rachel had come in to see if he was awake, but hadn't tried to include him in the house party they were hosting right outside his room.

Multicolored lights danced along the curtain surrounding his room. Apparently someone had broken out the dollar store disco ball. The music was _blaring_. He was surprised he'd actually slept through any of this.

Kurt let out a groan as he realized he'd slept in his jeans. He ran a hand through his hair and got out of bed, stretching his limbs. The curtain behind him was pulled open slightly, allowing a shadowed individual through, "_Oh_. Sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here." A man's voice apologized. It seemed strangely familiar though.

"It's okay." Kurt assured him, walking over to turn on his small desk light. When he turned around, he was met with the sight of those same friendly honey eyes he'd fantasized about for the past week.

Blaine blinked a few times, before his eyes focused on Kurt. Recognition colored his face as a small smirk made its way onto his full lips, "Well, I see you're alive. So that means that you just didn't want to call me." He joked.

Kurt's stomach sank a bit, "Sorry." He sucked his lips in, averting his eyes. Once Kurt had gotten back home the day he had met Blaine, he'd immediately entered his number into his phone, glad that the clamminess in his hands hadn't erased the ink on his palm, "For what it's worth, your number did make its way into my phone."

"That's worth something. Though I wish you would've called me." Blaine shrugged lightly, "It's the least you could've done after knocking me down!" He laughed before grinning broadly. Kurt opened his mouth to say something, but was struck speechless. Why did he even care if Kurt called him? He'd assumed Blaine would have forgotten about him the second he left, and he would have made a fool of himself were he to actually _call_. Blaine's smile faltered a bit at Kurt's lack of response, "I'm just joking around." He back peddled.

Great. He hadn't even said anything and he'd already managed to make Blaine uncomfortable, "I-I know. I'm just… yeah." _Well_ that_ was impeccably worded, Kurt. Nice job._ "Sorry, I'm just kind of tired and I had no idea the girls were going to throw such a big party, so I'm kind of out of it."

Blaine pursed his lips, almost as if he didn't believe Kurt, "Well, did you want to come out and have a drink? It's on me." He joked again seeing as Blaine was a guest in Kurt's apartment. Kurt glanced through the space in the curtains, seeing the mass of people dancing around. Way too many people… Kurt was about to decline when Blaine spoke up again, already seeming to sense his weariness, "Just one drink. I'll protect you from the mob out there." He winked, taking Kurt's hand in his, "Come on." He urged.

Kurt didn't have a chance to say anything more. Blaine was already leading him out of the comfort of his room and through the party. His heart started to pound wildly in his chest as he was bounced between people. Kurt sped up so that his arm was flush with Blaine's and his other hand found it's way up to Blaine's bicep where he held onto the material of his shirt. Blaine glanced over at him, his face close. He scanned his face before grabbing a random bottle from the makeshift bar and leading him out onto the fire escape. Kurt followed him out. He shuddered from the cold, still so close to Blaine that he could feel the warmth from the other man seeping into his arm.

Blaine turned and shut the window, closing the noise inside so that it was only a dull pulsing behind them, "Want to sit?" He asked, raising one slightly triangular eyebrow.

Kurt nodded. Blaine took off his jacket and laid it onto the cold iron and they both sat down on it, "Thanks." Kurt said, trying to raise his voice so that he could be heard over the traffic below them.

"No problem." Blaine shrugged, his arm moving against Kurt's since they were sat so close together, "Now, how about that drink?" He reached over and held up a bottle of tequila.

Kurt nodded and snagged the bottle, needing the liquid courage to help him keep up conversation with Blaine. He uncapped the bottle and took a long swig. His nose scrunched up at the strong taste as he handed the bottle back to Blaine, "Thanks." He rasped.

Blaine chuckled lightly, pulling a sip from the bottle as well, "This is the first party I've been to since moving here." Blaine started, trying to bring up a conversation.

Kurt took the bait, "Where are you from originally?"

"Westerville."

"_Ohio?_" Kurt sputtered, turning red at his outburst.

"Let me guess. You're from Ohio too?" Kurt nodded, "What part?"

Kurt paused for a second to take another sip from the bottle of tequila, "_Lima_." He spat. The town's name tasted foul in his mouth, so he took another small sip.

"I take it you didn't like it there?" Blaine continued, picking up on Kurt's thoughts.

Kurt let out a humourless laugh, "How'd you guess?"

"Well, I'm gay and I lived in Ohio, so I know how it can be." He explained, voice lowering a bit.

Kurt risked a glace at his profile, noticing the slight twist of his lips, "W-were you bullied?"

Blaine shook himself before looking back at Kurt, "Yeah. Yeah, I was. Got beat up pretty badly and my parents had me transferred to Dalton. No tolerance policy for bullying and all that."

Kurt remembered longing for the day that he could afford to go there. He wished he had allowed his dad to pay for him to go when he'd offered to, but Kurt couldn't let him spend his honeymoon money on tuition. So he'd endured two more years of torture, leaving him rung out and spent by the time it was over. After a pretty rough beating by none other than Karofsky, he was almost forced to spend another whole _year _at McKinley due to being in the hospital for so long recovering. Luckily, he didn't have to repeat his senior year and then he was dragged to New York by Rachel once they graduated.

"Well, I'm glad you made it out."

"I'm sorry you didn't." Blaine said plainly. Kurt looked at him, astonished, "I'm assuming you were bullied too and since I never met you at Dalton… I figure you had to stay in the same school."

Kurt bit his lip to keep it from quivering, "You assumed right." Kurt spoke softly, staring out into the night sky.

"I wish you would have been able to come. To Dalton I mean. I think we would have been able to be good friends. Help each other, you know?" Blaine mused.

"I wish I could have too." Kurt sighed, body shaking a bit.

"You cold?"

Kurt shook his head, trying in vain to suppress another shudder, "N-no. I'm fine." He lied.

Blaine didn't call him out on his lie, but he did shift closer so that they could share in each other's warmth. After a while, Blaine pulled out his cell phone to check the time, "I should probably head out." He said regretfully.

Kurt deflated, "O-okay."

The two stood up, "Can I see your phone?" Blaine asked. Kurt handed him his phone without question. Blaine fiddled with the device for a moment before smiling, "Thanks." He said, handing it back to Kurt.

Kurt eyed the phone for a moment before sliding it back into his pocket. They both entered the building once again. His body was tingling from the warmth of the apartment compared to being outside as his body temperature regulated.

The party had died down, only a few people left over, passed out on the couches and chairs, "I hope to see you again soon, Kurt." Blaine said, pulling Kurt's attention back onto him.

Kurt nodded shyly. Blaine pursed his lips before leaning in and placing a soft kiss just beside his ear, "I'll call you." He whispered before pulling away and leaving the loft.

Kurt blinked, still in a daze. He pulled his phone from his pocket and noticed there was a text message sent to Blaine's number.

_From: Kurt_

_To: Blaine_

_Kurt's number_

A few moments later, his phone buzzed with a one worded text that had his heart doing a strange flip in his chest.

**From: Blaine**

**To: Kurt**

**Courage ~B**

That message managed to keep the monster inside at bay for a while before it once again took the reigns later that night. At least he'd managed to have an hour or so of peace…

**=================================gLee====================================**

**Merry late Christmas and Happy Holidays! Let me know what you thought! :)**


	3. Avon calling!

He was tail spinning out of control, that much he knew. He doesn't remember leaving his bed but for a few times for necessary reasons. Rachel and Santana seemed to be going about their normal business, not paying any mind to Kurt wasting away on his mattress. In all actuality, he felt dead.

"Kurt? We're heading over to the grocery store. Do you need us to pick you up anything?" Rachel's light voice flooded his ears as he watched her shadow through the curtain tying up her long hair.

"How 'bout some tampons, Lady Hummel?" Santana drifted over, her usual snark in place.

Kurt just sighed and let his head lull over to the side, eyes drifting closed. What he didn't expect was for the partition to be slid over dramatically and Santana's face to be right in front of his, "What?" He asked quietly, his voice soft from disuse.

"You know I kid around with you and I guess sometimes I can be a bitch or whatever," Santana started and he felt Rachel come and sit down on his bed behind him, "But we're all a family here. You can talk to me if you need to." She said seriously, her eyes flitting over his face, looking for some type of reaction.

He kept his eyes on his hand that was curled up near his face, "I know, but I'm fine."

"I don't know if you're lying, or if you really think that," Rachel said, placing her hand on his shoulder, "But you've been holed up in here for days and you've been ignoring your phone…"

"I'm fine." Kurt repeated, lacking any potency behind his false words. Even speaking was draining the little energy left in his body and all he wanted to do was roll over and escape into his dreams.

Rachel let out a frustrated noise, "Your dad had to call _me_ because he was worried that you weren't answering your phone! You need to just get up and stop being so _lazy._"

Kurt's stomach felt hollow, his chest tightening at her words, "Just go away." He muttered, turning his face into his pillows and holding back the tears that never seemed to come unless he was around other people, embarrassing as that was.

He heard Rachel let out a huff before getting off his bed and stomping away. When he turned a bit and opened his eyes, he noticed Santana was still kneeling beside him, her eyes sharp and scrutinizing, "The new guy at work asked about you." She began, "He seemed disappointed that you haven't answered your calls… Worried even." Kurt averted his eyes from his friend, "Didn't know you and the hobbit knew each other, but I think you should at least text him and your dad. It might not make you feel better, but it'll mean the world to them." In a surprisingly tender gesture, Santana reached out and smoothed his hair back before standing quickly to join Rachel.

Once the sliding door was shut, he rolled over to stare at the ceiling, biting down on the inside of his lips. He needed to get up and move on with his life. Hiding away in his bed wasn't going to make the world stop revolving, couldn't stop life from moving forward. All he could do was get up and fake it. It was selfish of him to let himself fall into this near catatonic state, leaving his family, friends… and Blaine worrying about him.

Using all of his strength, he lifted himself up and turned so his feet were resting on the cold wooden floor. He curled into himself, rubbing his hands across his face. He was just a lazy, selfish person.

It took him a good ten minutes to actually stand up and then he slowly shuffled to the bathroom to take a shower. He set the water to cold to hopefully shock his system, but even that didn't work. His legs felt too weak to hold him, so he let himself slide down and sit in the bottom of the shower, the cold pellets of water battering along his shivering body.

What was wrong with him?

From his spot, he noticed the loose tile that was jimmied from the wall. His mind told him not to reach for it, but his hands moved on their own accord, prying the tile from the wall. Sitting against the wall behind it was his gleaming razor blade. Without really thinking about it, he picked up the small metal piece and slid it across the tender skin of his left wrist. He was losing room on both of his wrists with how much he used to cut.

As the first dots of blood bubbled up to the seam, he let his head fall back, face scrunching up in anger. He hated that he had to do this to himself to distract himself from everything. The lines on his wrist disgusted him, but he also loved to just look at them. It was strange.

Over the sound of the shower, he heard a knocking at the door. Kurt scrambled to stand up, hissing as the skin at his wrist tugged. He turned the water off and quickly dried himself off. The knocking continued as he rushed to his room, pulling on the first things he saw before going back to the door.

"Who is it?" He asked through the door.

"Avon calling!" A joyful voice exclaimed. Kurt felt his lips turning up in some semblance of a smile as he pushed the door away and was met with a grinning Blaine Anderson.

"You brought me makeup?" He asked sarcastically, knowing Blaine didn't actually bring any Avon makeup.

Blaine rolled his eyes, "Of course I did." He replied with just as much sarcasm, "No, but I did bring food!"

"Why?" The word slipped out before he could stop himself and he immediately felt guilty when Blaine's face dropped for a split second, "Sorry." He apologized, internally hitting himself.

Blaine just shrugged, "Well, if you don't want any of this delicious food…" He trailed off, turning a bit and raising his eyebrow as he pretended to leave.

Kurt let his head fall back a bit, "_Alright_, alright. Come on in."

Blaine's smile was enough for Kurt to know he'd made the right decision, "_Awesome_." He entered the apartment and slid the door shut behind him, "Hope you like Chinese!" He winked, moving past him and plopping down on the sofa, placing the bag of food on the coffee table.

"_Oh, please._ Make yourself at home." He said, walking over to sit next to Blaine who was currently digging through the bag and setting random takeout boxes on the table.

"Well, you _did_ let me in." Blaine responded in an obvious tone.

Kurt leaned back, still feeling tired and a bit out of it, "Don't make me regret that decision."

Blaine split a pair of chopsticks, pointing one at Kurt, "Well, if you answered your _phone,_ I wouldn't have had to come over and annoy you."

Kurt bit his lower lip, glancing down at the spread of food, "You're not annoying me." He said quietly, sitting up to scan the choices, "Did you buy _everything_ on the menu?" He asked, eyes widening at all of the food.

"Well, I didn't know what you'd want, so I got one of everything." He shrugged, already digging into some sort of chicken and broccoli dish.

After some searching, Kurt found a plastic container filled with his favorite, orange chicken. He didn't feel like getting up to go grab a fork, so he opened the chopsticks and used one to spear the meat onto it.

"What are you _doing?_" Blaine asked, incredulous.

Kurt frowned, "I'm _eating?_" He responded, the words coming out like a question.

"Please tell me you know how to use chopsticks." Kurt didn't respond, "Alright." Blaine placed his food aside and took Kurt's hand in both of his. Kurt felt a foreign heat rising in his cheeks that matched the warmth of Blaine's skin, "This is how you use chopsticks." He grabbed the other stick and moved Kurt's fingers so that he was holding them properly, "Now pinch them together." He said. Kurt did as he was told, the tips of the chopsticks touching, "There you go!"

Kurt noticed Blaine's eyes zeroing in on something near his hand. Horrified, Kurt noticed that his sleeve had ridden up a bit, revealing the healed scars lining his wrist. Blaine had seen them, he _knew_ that he had. But instead of looking away, revolted, Blaine carefully pulled the sleeve back into place and went grabbed his food again. Kurt sat in shock, watching as Blaine popped a piece of chicken in his mouth. He acted as if he hadn't seen anything, but he could see that his body was more rigid than it had been before.

"You don't have to stay." Kurt said, resigned, "You're probably disgusted and rightfully so."

Blaine looked over at him, "I'm not."

Kurt's body sunk in a bit, "I am." He whispered.

When Blaine got up, Kurt could've sworn he was going to leave, but he was shocked when he took off his jacket and lifted the side of his shirt up. Kurt let out an involuntary gasp when Blaine revealed a medium sized scar running diagonally across his ribs on his side, "We all have battle scars, Kurt." He said seriously, dropping his shirt and sitting down next to him again. Kurt noticed he was a bit closer than before, "Some we get from others and some we get from ourselves… but it doesn't make them any less present."

Kurt was quiet for a moment, picking at the edge of his sleeve, "How did you get that?"

"Remember when I said I got beaten up before I went to Dalton?" Kurt nodded, "Well, I was left with a reminder of that night." He said solemnly.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." Kurt placed his hand on Blaine's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

Blaine reached up and lightly grasped Kurt's wrist, "I'm sorry you had to go through _that_." He gazed into Kurt's eyes.

"We're home!" Rachel's voice broke their entrancement, "Oh, hi there." Rachel said to Blaine before she came bustling over, smiling when she saw that Kurt was up and out of bed, "Glad to see you're finally up, Kurt."

Kurt shifted uncomfortably and Blaine glanced over, reading him for a moment before standing, "Let me help you with those bags. He placed a hand on Rachel's arm and led her away.

Kurt got up to help put the groceries away once the rest of the bags were inside, "Where's Santana?"

"At work." Rachel responded, putting some fresh celery stalks into the fridge, "She headed over once we were done shopping. Now, I'm going to shower and get ready for my audition." Rachel said excitedly.

"Audition?" Kurt didn't remember anything about auditions.

Rachel placed a hand on her hip, "So _now_ you want to listen." Kurt noticed Blaine frown at Rachel at her words, "Well, I have an audition to be in Funny Girl!" She said excitedly.

"That's _great_, Rache."

"I know!" She squeaked, "Well, I have to go get ready. See you at work tomorrow, Blaine." At that, she ran off to her room.

"I just now realized you work with the girls." Kurt said.

Blaine nodded, "Speaking of, I have a shift in an hour." He said regretfully, checking his phone, "Oh, and Santana told me to tell you to, and I quote, 'Call his Dad before he raids the apartment looking for your ass'."

Kurt sighed, "Yeah, I'll get on that." He said, leading Blaine to the door, "Thanks. For coming by, I mean."

"And for the food." Blaine smirked.

"And for the food." Kurt agreed.

He was taken off guard when Blaine pulled him in for a hug that lingered longer than socially acceptable, but Kurt didn't mind at all. It was comforting.

Blaine tilted his head so that his lips brushed Kurt's ear, "I'll see you tomorrow." He said before turning and walking away.

Kurt stood dumbly, watching as Blaine left. The words Blaine said didn't register until he was out of sight.

Did he say that he'd see him _tomorrow?_

**=================================gLee==================================**

**Sorry I took so long to update! I haven't really found the time or motivation to write lately.**

**Let me know what you thought of this chapter!**


End file.
